


this is how midorima shintarou dies

by ouiripon



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: AU, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Drabble, M/M, kind of, personality switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:50:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4152450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouiripon/pseuds/ouiripon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which it is Midorima Shintarou who switches personality, and Akashi Seijuurou loses the last pillar of support he ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is how midorima shintarou dies

**Author's Note:**

> short drabble that does no justice to the artform that is midoaka.
> 
> i was writing this to this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LvOoQ0Ff2nA so hopefully it sets you in the mood.

This story is about how Midorima Shintarou dies.

 

_[after]_

 

Lately, Akashi has been feeling short of breath. It definitely wasn’t because of training, the regimen has stayed constant and unchanging for the past season. As far as he was concerned, Akashi was in full health, and he had taken the vitamins his household set aside for him every morning.

It is only when Midorima enters the gym, in his usual oversized shirt and shorts, Akashi realizes what it is. Their eyes lock, vermillion and viridian, and Akashi sees once again the spark of amber that Midorima’s eyes catch in the light.

Akashi raises his hand uncertainly, making motions for Midorima to come over, but Midorima’s mouth is pressed into a hard line, and he turns away. Akashi’s hand slowly goes back to its prior position, and Akashi’s throat is starting to constrict.

He turns the opposite way and directs his keen eyes to oversee the first string. His short breath is now accompanied with a dull ache in the farthest reach of his sternum, and he can’t shake it off with another round of laps. Sounds enter and exit his ears, and each squeak of rubber on cement just seems to translate to _he’s gone_ , and each yell from every member on the court seems to sound like _this is not Midorima_.

Akashi refuses to look at the man, but he knows he is on the leftmost basket, shooting mechanically, automatically, and without fail. He knows that the man shooting impeccable three-pointers right now is the same man who gave him small smiles in the hallway, the same man who silently reached out when Akashi came to training with downcast eyes, the same man who would constantly assure him that basketball wasn’t all about winning.

Akashi knows that, and yet ever since yesterday, that man’s eyes have turned frigid and distant. Akashi can’t bring himself to see that man as Midorima anymore.

 

_[before]_

 

“Looks like I win, Aka-chin.” Murasakibara said, disdain coloring his expression. “Do we have a deal?”

Akashi didn’t respond. His eyes were wide, and his breathing shallow. His hand clutched the area of his shirt where his racing heart lay beneath, and his knees were shaking ever so slightly.

“Aka-chin.”

no response.

“Aka-chin,” Murasakibara yawned, “It was really disappointing, but I guess I’m taking that as a yes.” Akashi heard the taller man walk away until his footsteps faded. “Thanks for the hard work.”

_disappointing_

_i lost_

_i lost i lost i lost i lost i lost i lost i lost i lost i lost i lost_

Akashi could only focus on his frenzied thoughts and his hazy vision that swam in front of him. _He lost_. Akashi Seijuurou, son of the Akashi name, failed to secure a victory. He stared at his hands.

 _Disappointing_ \-- his father’s voice echoed in the void Murasakibara left. _Pathetic. Dumb_. His hands clenched into fists and finally looked up.

His teammates, who once looked up to Akashi in awe and respect, only gaped at him in horror and shock. The court was silent. His own voice died in his throat, his mouth tried to form words, but his words evaporated into tension, and that tension dropped a cold pit in the depth of his stomach.

_Don’t look at me_

Kise was the first to hesitantly step forward, “Akashicchi…”

_Stop looking at me_

Akashi’s eyes wildly tried to latch onto anything, to anyone who didn’t look at him like a monster (that he really was). Kise, Coach, the first string, Midorima.

_Midorima._

Midorima was watching him, his mouth pressed into a hard line.

“Akashi.”

Midorima stepped forward, stopping until he was just a foot away. Akashi craned his head to look directly at his face, in search for some sympathy, or anything from the old Midorima, but his heart sank when Midorima’s face contorted into derision and cold disappointment.

“Midorima…?” Akashi barely whispered. His hands found their direction towards Midorima’s chest, to which the taller one stepped back, cold and detached contempt still hardened in his eyes.

“How can a captain who performs like that lead us to victory?” Midorima said quietly.

Akashi felt his throat constrict and his chest collapse.

“If you fail to keep up your duties as captain,” Midorima continues, turning away, “I am afraid that you will just bring this team down.”

No.

 

> _“Don’t overwork yourself.” Midorima sighed, offering a towel to Akashi after practice. “You’ll catch a cold if you practice like this in this weather.”_

 

That sounded wrong.

 

> _“One day,” Midorima murmured as he moved a shogi piece across the board. “You will taste defeat and you will understand.”_
> 
> _“What is there to learn from defeat?"_

 

That was not something Midorima would say.

> _“That there is something worth more than victory.” Midorima looked up from the board, his eyes glinting with fiery determination. “One day, you will see that everything is not merely about victory, and I will make sure you do not fall apart when that happens."_

 

Akashi watched Midorima walk out of the gym. His chest ached and his breathing hitched.

 

_[aftermath]_

 

“Midorima.”

Practice game. Midorima turned around from his three-pointer, and Akashi offered a fist.

Midorima looked at it quizzically.

“Yes?”

Akashi’s face was stoic, but he closed his eyes and willed every fiber of his being to hold on for just a few more moments.

“It’s nothing.”

He let his fist drop to his side and ran back.


End file.
